


Organic

by Apprehended (SinsAndTriggers)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Computer Viruses, Implied Genji Shimada/Tekhartha Zenyatta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-03 04:22:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13333407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinsAndTriggers/pseuds/Apprehended
Summary: It took so long to perfect it, and so many omnics to test it upon. Those who were still alive in the labs were unlucky. The lucky ones had died, or had been put down. The ones left were set in two: those who the virus hadn't worked properly on, and those who it had. It was a dastardly thing, embedding in their central processors and overriding their system.





	Organic

Machine. Immune to things organic are not. A virus was only the concern of a human, of flesh and blood exposed to airborne or surface dwelling germs, destroying the body from the inside out. There as no concern for omnic, as there was nothing organic to infect or deteriorate. They were safe, made of synth and cybernetics, able to do what most humans could only wish to.

Many times, Zenyatta would care for his pupils when they had gotten sick, and Genji is no exception. Still, not once had the green haired cyborg been able to reciprocate that same care for his master. Zenyatta never got sick, after all. Perhaps that was a good thing, as he would not have to worry about such trivial matters, nor would Genji. They were peaceful, and they liked it that way.

Many believed that omnic would never have to worry about sickness as a human or other organic creature would.

Some, of course, believed it were possible.

A project had been conducted in secret, unbeknownst to the public. Those who suspected something was happening had no idea what truly was going on; all they had were cases of missing synth, robots who disappeared in the middle of the night with no trace as to where they may have gotten off to. Yet still, not many put too much thought into it. They were merely robots who had left their life behind, and had gone off to start anew. There was no panic among the masses, save for those who were left behind, and those who didn't want to believe they were only abandoned.

Theories circulated on hushed tones, a taboo subject on the tongue. Some said there was a secret cult of omnic. Others believed they were dead. Perhaps they had faulty wiring and had gone crazy. They were all put down by those in the public who firmly believed they had merely left.

Life went on, for the public, as usual as it possibly could.

The culprit walked through the streets as calm as ever.

Her ginger hair was somewhere between groomed and messy, her tie straight and tight around the collar of her shirt. Heels clicked against the concrete as her eyes shifted and from each passerby, sometimes lingering, other times flickering away quickly. She was calculating, gathering data, working. Her nails, long and pointed, pressed lightly against the flesh of her hand. A small smirk splayed upon her lips.

She had the product of her work in her bag, a small vial hidden in a make-up case. 

It took so long to perfect it, and so many omnics to test it upon. Those who were still alive in the labs were unlucky. The lucky ones had died, or had been put down. The ones left were set in two: those who the virus hadn't worked properly on, and those who it had. It was a dastardly thing, embedding in their central processors and overriding their system.

It had taken nearly two years to perfect.

Now, it was being put to test in the real world, and the target was none other than the robotic monk himself. What better specimen to test it upon than he? His ties and relations were too good to pass up, and if the virus worked, it would bring about a crucial change, and give Talon the edge they deserved. Her mission was of a scale far greater than any she had conducted as of yet, and she wouldn't mess this up.

 

Zenyatta had his hands folded in his lap, a metal sounding chuckle leaving his voice processing unit as Genji chatted away merrily. They were at the local cafe, one they frequented quite often, as it reminded the young Shimada of his past. He and his brother would visit cafes and pubs- moreso by Genji's prodding and Hanzo's caving in to his brother's desires- back in Hanamura before the clan had gotten in the way, before that day. The building had a nostalgic air to it, and the green-haired male enjoyed it. Seeing as his student adored it so much, Zen couldn't help but take him. Seeing his companion happy warmed his circuits in a way he couldn't exactly describe.

They chattered about anything that came to mind, and the Shimada's mouthpiece was peeled back, showing scarred skin and a smile that shone. In his hands he had a small cup, one crafted much like the ones he drank from in Hanamura, and he had been drinking a tea that his elder sibling would often drink. It was a sencha style tea, and while Genji would have once gone for Shincha, the more bitter taste had grown on him in his recent years.

A ginger haired waitress approached them, smiling sweetly as she glanced her hand on the zen master's back, then poured more tea for the ninja. "Is there anything else I can get you?" She asked, her heterochromatic eyes glistening with an unreadable glint. Her voice was honey-tipped and her smile welcoming. Returning the smile, the young student shook his head. "No, that would be all. Thank you."

With a nod to both men, she stood, and took her leave. Behind their backs, a smirk splayed across her lips, and she wiped her hand on the apron she had on.

 

Despite a robot's capabilities to detect if there was something wrong with it's systems, even they were not perfect. The smallest thing could get past them, or lay dormant for so long, too long to be detected with any updates. It would simply appear as if the malware was a part of the system in the first place, a deviant that had been created on purpose, unbeknownst to its host that it was just waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

A virus, in many ways, could be like a predator, a bird of prey or perhaps a serpent. It waited for the opportune moment to strike at its prey, as it knew if it did not succeed the first time, it could be the last time. There could be no warning, no signs. One moment, everything is fine, and the next...

Zenyatta slumped in his position above the ground from where he had been meditating with Genji. The Orbs around him paused, quivered, and dropped, one by one. It was the second one that hit the floor that caught the young ninja's attention. His head snapped up and his head turned to his master, his visor hiding the surprise, then fear in the synthetically enhanced orbs he possessed. Shifting his position, his hands both planted themselves onto the ground, and he leaned on one leg as the other came up, as if he were to hug his knees to himself.

"Master?" He asked, distressed, and in response, the Orbs on the ground glowed again, and rose back into the air. Despite having dropped about a half foot in the air, the monk rose once more, and his hands came up to cover his face. A static buzz could be heard from him, as if he were trying to speak yet wasn't able to. Seeing his mentor rise and move again, Genji sighed in relief, shoulders relaxing. "You startled me," He continued, then cocked his head to the side. "Are you feeling alright, Master?"

The blue to the lights on his head took on a faint orange hue, and the buzzing ceased. Yet still, the robot did not speak. A frown appeared on Genji's lips, disturbed and worried. A reboot, maybe? He didn't think Zen had to be rebooted, but it might make sense. Standing, he closed the two foot distance between he and the zen master, and clasped his synthetic hand on metal shoulder- metal on metal, making an all too familiar noise. 

"Do you need me to get you anything?" There wasn't much the Shimada could really do, was there? He knew that, but still, there had to be something, no?

Zen flinched upon being touched, drawing back with a form of a noise- it was taken as one of surprise from the cyborg- and the Asian male drew back quickly. Apologies spilled from his mouth before he was on the ground, struggling to breathe. Masked eyes blew wide, staring through the visor into the red lights above him,and his hands grappled at his neck-- at the hands pressing into his synthetic skin, crushing his windpipe under metal fingers. Confusion and fear burned hotly, and he struggled best he could. Still, under robot unbound by human possibilities, he hadn't much of a chance. Perhaps he wasn't truly fighting, in fear of harming the man holding him down, pinning him to the floor and choking him.

Normally, he would have made a witty comment. 

"Master, _please_ -" he wasn't sure what he was pleading for. Surely Zenyatta wouldn't be able to kill him, he shouldn't be pleading for his life. To breathe, perhaps? Had he angered his master in any way, worse than ever before? His mind reeled for something- anything- to tell him what he had done, but it was increasingly difficult with his mind going hazy and his vision beginning to fuzz out and darken. He was still human. He was still vulnerable, so unlike an omnic. His fight-or-flight instinct kicked in, and he struggled harder, finally, and tried prying the hands from his neck. 

With one last, raspy breath, he pulled once more at the hands...

 

And they were gone. 

 

Air hit him like a train, making him gasp like a fish out of water as his body tried taking as much as possible. Hands- his own hands- clawed and clutched at his chest, his heart racing and his blood rushing through his veins. His eyes flew open wide, blurry and the edges of his vision still black. He stared up at the familiar ceiling, noticing a few spare shurikens in between the wooden paneling, pointed blades piercing the grains of wood. Elsewhere, there were holes in the material from past piercings of both arrow and sword.

The sound of feet upon the floor finally reached through his ringing hearing, clearing the static from his head and making him flinch. He jolted upward, eyes landing on the prone form of his master, and the stoic, familiar form of his brother. Heart still racing, his mind tried playing catch up as he noticed the arrow protruding from the center of the Zen master's head. Hanzo's arrow. He could recognize the craftsmanship of the particular weapon in a heartbeat, so unlike any others he'd seen. His dominant hand reached out, grabbed a hold of the arrow, and pulled it from Zenyatta's head. It came easily, and only then did his elder look at him, rush to him to crouch by his side.

"Are you alright?" 

It took a moment for the younger Shimada to realize what exactly was said, but when he did, he nodded, slowly. He was in shock, eyes blown wide behind the visor hiding away his scarred face. Hanzo frowned, lips pursed, and set his bow down. Calloused hands reached up, easily removing the visor to reveal tear-filled brown orbs like his own. His frown deepened, and he wrapped his arms around Genji, who broke into sobs. How could he not? He was still having trouble breathing, sobs raspy and desperate, and shakes wracked his body. He had watched his love- a genuine love, for the first time in his life- try to kill him, to instead be killed by his brother.

He couldn't even form the anguished _'why?'_

Instead, the two siblings held onto each other, Genji clutching to Hanzo like he was the only save place in a turbulent storm at sea. After all, his master was gone, as his brother was. All Genji really had left was his elder sibling, and thats what he clung to, weeping into his attire. He couldn't find it in him to be angry, not at Hanzo. He knew his brother wouldn't simply kill someone, especially someone so dear to his precious brother, his little Sparrow.

He had no reason to suspect anything of the sort.

Right?


End file.
